Emerald
by The Masked Bandit
Summary: There's a DHunter in town and she's not to happy.After miraculous surviving a shooting one night Tilder Asgrave has questions&she won't like the answers.
1. Tilder AsgravePeculiar Name

Emerald

**Chapter One:Tilder Asgrave, Peculiar Name, Peculiar Occupation**

Tilder Asgrave was hit by a magic bullet forged by her evil enemies with the sole purpose of killing her. This bullet was made of tiny particles of all the elements there are in th world that can kill an individual. It contained trace amounts of silver, used to take down those that were afflicted with the terrible curse of turning into a werewolf. Many people have always believed that in order to kill a werewolf one must shoot them with a silver bullet. True as that is, there has always been another method of killing the wild beast, a method as effective but much bloodier and far more lethal. Lethal for the hunter that is.

She had no right being there, she was an 'intern' and only someone with years of training should have been put in t his position. She could only hope this was a test and failure in this test did not lead to her life ending.

Beheading a werewolf will ensure that they are dead. Beheading is a popular way of killing a monster, werewolf, vampire or man.

Tilder knew only too well just how dangerous it can be to get close enough to a werewolf and assert just the right amount of force needed and the right angle to strike at when she encounter the Silver Backed Wolf. That night had been a long one and Tilder had never cursed her own life as much as she did then, cursed her own stupidity for not bringing her gun with her. Cursed herself for knowingly entering the territory of a werewolf and not bringing any sort of formidable arsenal against it.

Tilder could only thank the stars and god for the good luck she received that night when she stumbled upon a long shaft of blade. It resembled a sword in every way, only it had a strange rotten wooden handle. But she was glad of it none the less. It may seem a simple thing to control ones breathing, to hold your breath for a few seconds is indeed a simple task.

But to remain breathing whilst in a state of fear and panic and at the same time make sure that you create as little noise as possible from yourself, is in itself a talent that comes only with the experience of having to constantly rely on your sense and instincts. It was that inherent and primeval ability that allowed her to every so carefully creep up on the silver back werewolf and to slice it's head off in one quick and clean slash.

She often wondered what the blade was made off, if it could sliced through a werewolf so easily it must have been made of a very durable and special metal. Maybe such a substance could be found in the bullet that lay before her under the giant microscope, being monitored and examined by the slightly crazy and incredibly brainy Albert Petternick.

Every D-Hunter is assigned a person who helps them with their investigations, usually this person is far smarter than the D-Hunter themselves or so they think. D-Hunter's undertake every job they take on by themselves; it's too dangerous to involve anyone else, especially civilians.

Civilians prefer to think that the only evil in the world are people that carry guns and blunted knives.

Even then, those evil people are put to jail and attempts are made to rehabilitate them. That is how the world thinks and that suits Tilder just fine.

The less they know the less chance there is of them getting in the way and causing her and people like her more grief than they already have.

The real evil in the world cannot be taken in and given a light questioning, followed by an offer of special treatment if they supply the authorities with the right information. It doesn't work like that in Tilders line of work, the evil she encounters needs to be stopped for good, destroyed and put in the ground, which is sometimes where the came from in the first place

Petternick had spent by now two hours staring at the bullet and so far had come to several conclusions or "small parts of a tiny equation" as he called it. First of all he concluded what Tilder already knew. This bullet was not you're average 45mm style of ammo. It was an emerald green colour and sparkled many more different colours when hit by a high watt light.Tilder and Petternick stared in awe as the blue, red, orange colours bounced of the walls and ceiling in Petternicks tiny yet well stocked laboratory. His home away from home is what he referred to it as, though in truth Tilder had never been to his actual 'home.

Petternick had told Tilder that the bullet was comprised of many different elements, all strange and rare and capable of taking down any opponent, as it seems that traces of different well known killer substances had appeared on his micro-data screen.

"To say this is a small feat is quite an understatement I would say, eh Tilder" Petternick said as his eye was firmly glued to the eyepiece on the microscope..

"Not only do we have the rarest and most explosively lethal bullet in our world and who knows where else, but you are alive. Yes this is the greatest day for the mind of Albert Petternick, for I have two mysteries to solves. One, is to determine the other minerals that are seeded in the bullet, one of which we now know to be silver, pure silver at that. And the second thing I must determine is how a mere mortal could have survived being shot dead straight in the chest with this bullet."

Tilder was more interested in the first puzzle he had to solve. In all the times she has come to him with a new item or interests or to find out information he has always been quick with his work and reports to her. But tonight she knows that she has quite a wait ahead of her if she wants to know what exactly she is dealing with and why on earth would someone shoot her with such a valuable thing. Why not try something simpler, like say an ordinary store bought bullet. So many questions floated through her mind and right now she had to try and squeeze whatever answers she could out of Petternick.

"I'll tell you how I'm still standing, if and only if you can provide me with something to go on tonight Albert. It's obviously not safe for me to head straight home and think I can drift off to sleep and enjoy some quality time in dreamland. I need to get out there and find out what the hell is going on. You send me to stalk some sort of voodoo drug pusher and next thing I know I'm being pummelled by bullets and the only one that nearly gets me is sitting right there and turns out to be a fricking impossible weapon."

Albert poked his eyes up to look at Tilder and he sniffed.

"The bullet isn't the weapon..."

"I don't care what the proper term is Albert. I nearly died tonight. Plus your druggie mate got away. You know I hate to loose a job, any job.

"I hardly consider that scum to be an associate of mine Tilder.I can tell you right now 3 more pieces of fascinating information about the events of tonight."

Tilder stared at Petternick in amazement and if Albert had been staring her in the eyes, he would of seen a slight tint of anger as well.

"We know this much. Someone wants you dead. They didn't just decide to go out and kill the first D-Hunter they came across. You're the only one now Tilder and they want you gone. They obviously know something that neither of us knows why they went to such great lengths to kill you i.e. that bullet."

Tilders expressions throughout the short run of Petternick's sentence flashed from confusion to fear and suddenly a thought came to her mind and she interrupted him.

"Could the bullet have been fired from an ordinary gun?"

Petternick sighed loudly. He hated to be interrupted when in the middle of a theory or explanation, especially when the person interrupting somehow managed to bring something up that he considered being to his knowledge only.

"The bullet was made up of unusual materials, but the actual construction of it was designed to fit a variety of guns. The one that fired it at you and if I'm correct the barrel markings suggest at least one gun that could have possibly fire it."

Petternick looked back towards Tilder and when she saw his face he knew what he was about to say. Petternick explained that the only other gun that could fire this that he knows of is the Harbinger Pistol. Not only was the gun packed with an amazing shot power, but it was quite small for its size and was crafted in the 12th century. The gun is one of those rare things that a D-Hunter hears about or reads up on, but simply considers it to be a myth, something to convince the masses that unearthly goings-on are happening.

Tilder would say she is the biggest sceptic she knows. But she is also aware that all she has seen in her life, especially as a D-Hunter has been very real. The gun she has heard of from other 'enthusiasts' before, but it is the fact that it is guarded in the secret vault of a well known crime baron and presumed occultist is what brings a feeling of nausea to Tilder's stomach, a feeling Albert quickly picks up on.

"Look I'm not saying you have to go storming in and get the gun, I'm simply letting you know that it is out there. This is not your first priority. You need to get some sleep. I will call you whenever I know more"

Tilder simply shook her head at Petternick and headed for the door of his laboratory saying "I'm not going to sleep tonight Albert, you know that." Then as her hand grasped the handle she turned her head slightly to say something to him.

"3 things you said"

"What?" he replied."

"You said you had 3 things to tell me about tonight"

"Ah yes. I just needed a few moments to check if I was correct. It looks like the next element in this bullet will more than likely turn out to be..."

Before he could finished his sentence he was once again interrupted, this time from the micro-data screen. He face seemed to almost turn grey and he simply stared at the screen.

"What...what is it Albert" Tilder said almost screaming her words.

"It seems the second element is...sulphur."

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	2. Monster?

**Chapter Two: Monster?**

Sometimes a monster can have a heart. They can enjoy the same things that regular people enjoy, like eating ice cream or walking in the rain. And if a monster can enjoy music like a normal human can, then surely they have no evil in them, surely they have the same rights as everyone else and surely one day they'll can enjoy the things they like without another person trying to take them away. Maybe a monster such as Ranaghoul will have the happiness he feels he deserves, what does it matter that he has the blood of hundreds on his hands, who cares that his soul is not his own and that he has the strength to crush a humans bones but not enough will to stop being the slave of another monster, one far more twisted than he'll ever be. He loves music, he sings Silent Night to himself, regardless of what time of year it is. He loves to sing this song, he finds it funny and ironic. For in his world it is always night, ever since his sight was taken from him. And now that he has found music, he will not let another monster take it away from him. The monster has made him in his image and however hideous Ranaghoul was on the outside he can feel himself become even more grotesque inside. It is like a blackness spreading throughout his body swallowing and twisting whatever sense of humanity was left in him. He doesn't hate people, he simply hates his master and anyone who takes away his music. Ranaghoul has come up with a theory, something that makes him feel very smart. He thinks to himself that not many people have their own theories. His theory is that anyone who takes away a person or monster most treasured possession is truly evil. But his theory is flawed, as Ranaghoul has taken away the lives of so many and even though he is a monster he knows that so many of those people loved their lives and so many people who knew loved that very same life. He has taken that away and therefore is just like his master, evil and powerful.

Maybe the current task will be his last and he'll be free, free to listen to music and play in the rain, away from the screams and the carnage that he has created. Maybe God will forgive, but he knows he is past forgiveness; he is past any human concept. He is a monster.

Tilder heads to Hick's Bar every Thursday night, a tradition she has kept going since she was 14 years of age. Tilder had met the proprietor, Jack Finbar Hicks at that age, he had found her crying in the alley at the back of his bar one night. How lucky was she that it was himself that went out that night and not one of his many less sociable customers, reliving themselves on the streets instead of using the fine marbled toilets he provided them with.Tilder had run away from home that night, finding the constant ranting of her parents towards their eldest child, Andrew, a pain she thought she could no longer stand. Andrew was a good boy, always looked after Tilder, always did as he was told and kept his room immaculate always.Tilder never understood why her parents would suddenly start an argument with him or why they would say the things they did.

Not until that night, the night that their resentment to their only son became clear. Andrew had come down the stairs that night, his first night back from his second year at University, to attend a special dinner their mother had made.Tilder's hope were raised, there would be no trouble tonight, no loud shouting and cries from her mother telling her to "go to bed".

_As they sat down to the great feast of turkey, potatoes and ever other trimming that came along with the meal, Tilders father said grace and they ate. Andrew had looked uncomfortable all night, he kept fidgeting with his napkin. Then he suddenly cleared his throat in an obvious manner and stood up at the table, almost as if to get some ounce of courage in him._

_"I've met someone and I want you..."_

_His father slammed his fork on the table and got out of his chair._

_"Don't start this again Andrew."_

_"You need to accept this sometime dad, or do you want me to be miserable all my life. Daniell is a..."_

_"Shut up:his father yelled." I don't want to know his name, I thought after last time you'd give up this nonsense"_

_"Nonsense? Being gay is not something I'm doing for the fun of it. I can't help how I turned out, how can you be so hateful"_

_"You were raised a different way Andrew. Do you want your sister to know what you are? Do you even care at all about how your mother felt when you..."_

_The fighting that Tilder had become familiar with began again and she knew her own tears and shouts would do nothing to stop the anger in the room. Andrew was gay, and all she could think of that night was 'how could he not of told me'. She didn't care who he loved, she didn't want their family to be torn apart and when Andrew left that night, promising never to return and saying a last goodbye to Tilder, she realised she felt a new emotion for her parents. Hatred. hey had turned against their own son, her brother, the best friend she ever had and all because he had fallen in love with another mantled was so angry that night, she dumped the contents of her schoolbag on the floor and filled it with some clothes, a loaf of bread and a bottle of Coke. he then slipped out the back door while her father and mother were still ranting on about Andrew and started to run, not knowing where she was heading._

_Jack Hicks never saw anyone cry so much. He approached the 14 year old Tilder as slow as he could, knowing that a young lady crying in an alleyway would be scared of anyone that came near her. When he came within 3 feet of her, Tilder seemed to react instinctively and bolted off the step she was sitting on and backed away._

_"Hey now, you're o.K. own this bar here and I'm not going to hurt you" Jack said to her in a tender voice that he did not even know he had._

_"You wouldn't get a chance too" Tilder shot back at him._

_He smiled, tough girl, brave girl and yet he knew all too well, that somehow someway he'd would probably end up in a bad way if did try and hurt her. But nevertheless a young girl in a place like this had to be here for a reason, had to have run away from her family and had to be frightened no matter how tough she tried to act._

_"Look you want to come inside. You'll freeze out here and it's not safe, especially at night" he asked her once again using his newly found voice and this time he added a smile._

Tilder thought back to that night and wondered what would of happened if she had not of taken his offer of refuge. Would she have left the state and led a life of adventure hopping on a bus every time she had seen the sights. Or would she have of fallen down a path where no one could save her, end up on the streets living in some skip in the back of nowhere, doing lord knows what just to get enough money to keep living. Tilder brushed those thoughts out of her head and sat down at her usual seat. Jack had taken her in and helped her. He even convinced Tilder to ring her parents and tell them she was ok. But she never went home straight away. Tilder wanted to see her brother, tell him she missed him and let Andrew know that no matter what she loved him. Once again Jack had helped her out. He had given her enough money to get the bus to his University campus. She was happy to have met Jack and was glad he had saved her.


End file.
